WE ARE EQUAL
by Jarl of the North
Summary: Gamzee has fought himself for hours; he has finally managed to silence the voices within his head. He had won. But Karkat has come to a realization... A what if story based around the idea where Karkat goes crazy instead of Gamzee.


I do not own Homestuck.

* * *

NARRATOR

[S]: Be Gamzee ==

You lean back in the horn pile, breathing heavily as you stare up at the ceiling, pain wracking your arms, legs, back... pretty much everything.

But in spite of the pain... no, it's because of the pain that you're grinning right now.

It had only been a matter of time before you ran out of sopor - that much had always been clear. What hadn't been clear to you, though, was what would happen once you did. For the past six hours, you had been hearing voices - voices that the sopor had been keeping quiet all your life, voices that urged you with all their might to kill, kill anything and everything that stood in your way.

The worst part about it was that you wanted to obey them - a longing for murder that boiled in your stomach, burning in your guts and clawing its way out your chest in a deluge of desperation and need.

But then you'd thought of your friends. Kanaya and Sollux, Feferi and Nepeta, Terezi and Tavbro. And let's not forget your best friend out of all of them, Karbro. Where would you be without any of them?

After that, it was clear what you'd needed to do.

You had wrestled yourself to the ground, tearing at your own skin with all your might, fighting, snarling, screaming at yourself with every ounce of rage and desperation you could muster as you destroyed the room, reducing everything that happened to get within your reach to hunks of scrap metal, shattering screens, tearing circuit boards and smashing software with every blow as you unleashed your unrighteous rage.

You would never hurt your friends.

You would never even dare.

And even if you would, you couldn't afford to. And not just because they were precious to you.

You are the last descendant of the high Subjugglators. And as such, you are also the Mirthful Messiahs, after all.

Even if Subjugglators normally killed everyone in their paths... Messiahs were supposed to help people, weren't they?

With this reasoning behind you, you continued fighting. Fighting against the voices that threatened the lives of your friends.

And finally - finally, you shut them up. No voices other than your own rang in your head any longer.

You had won.

You. Had. Won.

Those three words, combined with the aching, screaming pain that was currently wracking your body, the indigo blood that dripped off your body in streams, felt like God damn golden medals hanging around your neck, like you'd won first prize. Breathless, you closed your eyes, making yourself comfortable in the remains of your horn pile.

Maybe now you could get some rest...

Your eyes shot open as the familiar beep of your husktop rang out from the corner. Sitting up, you glanced over, seeing the beaten, broken piece of equipment lying on the floor, covered in a mix of your remaining drops of sopor and small spatters of your own blood. Wires poked out here and there from the interior, and the lights were all either broken or dim, the actual casing cracked and bent, pieces outright missing in place.

Flinching slightly, you slowly managed to stand up, walking over to the broken husktop and opening it up, amazed that the thing was still intact, let alone functionable, given how hard you smashed the shit out of it. Honestly, if that wasn't a miracle, you didn't know what was. Immediately, the Trollian window popped up unbidden, the way it always did, and you blinked a couple of times upon seeing the words that flashed upon the screen.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

CG: HEY.

You couldn't help but smile as you saw the familiar text flash upon the screen. Immediately, you sat down cross-legged on the concrete floor, your fingers working across the keyboard, leaving dark purple splotches on each button.

TC: hey motherfuckin best friend.  
TC: HOW THE MOTHERFUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING? :o)

You paused a moment, waiting for his response. When it came, you weren't surprised.

CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH YOUR TYPING QUIRK, NOOKSTAIN?  
TC: i finally ran out of motherfuckin slime, bro.  
TC: BELIEVE ME, IT WASN'T FUCKING EASY TO DEAL WITH.  
TC: i kept getting these motherfuckin urges.  
TC: URGES TO MURDER MOTHERFUCKING EVERYBODY. Do:  
TC: but i dealt with it. it's all motherfuckin chill now, best motherfuckin friend.  
TC: EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE MOTHERFUCKING FINE.  
TC: honk. :o)

Once again, you sit back, staring at the screen, waiting for him to respond. It was now that you realized that there was something odd about the way Karkat was writing. It wasn't really anything to do with what he was saying. It was more to do with how he'd let you start the conversation up.

Normally, he wasn't that... submissive. He was the kind of guy who would rant and rave whenever he started the conversation, usually going through fifteen minutes worth of venting before anyone else got the chance to talk.

But there was something else that was bugging you about this. Something you couldn't put your finger on...

His response came before you had any more time to ponder.

CG: HEH... HEHEH...

Okay... this was weird. Karkat would NOT start laughing at the fact that he and the others just barely escaped a brutal death at the hands of one of his best friends. Immediately, you began typing back again, feeling considerably less comfortable than you had before.

TC: ARE YOU OKAY, BRO?  
TC: you're really beginning to motherfucking weird me out.  
CG: HEHAHAHAHAHA!  
CG: WHY, I'M PERFECTLY FUCKING FINE, YOU OVERGROWN FUCKING BULGELICK.  
CG: THANKS FOR FUCKING ASKING, SHITSTAIN. IT WON'T BE WORTH MUCH IN THE END, THOUGH.

Your eyes narrowed considerably at the screen, your pain forgotten as you began typing once more.

TC: karbro, motherfucking stop.  
TC: I DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF MOTHERFUCKIN JOKE YOU'RE PULLING, MOTHERFUCKER, BUT IT ISN'T MOTHERFUCKING FUNNY.  
CG: I'M NOT FUCKING AROUND HERE, GAMZEE. NOT ANYMORE.  
CG: THE TIME FOR THAT IS LONG GONE.

There is a slight pause between this message and his next.

CG: DO YOU BELIEVE IN EQUALITY, GAMZEE?

Once again, you are caught off guard, the question gouging its way into your thinkpan and sitting there, simmering. You pause, considering the question before slowly moving your hands across the keys of your keyboard.

TC: well... yeah.  
TC: I MEAN, WE ALL ONLY HAVE EACH OTHER, RIGHT?  
TC: even if i didn't, we wouldn't really have much motherfuckin choice-  
CG: THAT ISN'T WHAT I MEANT, YOU FUCKING ASININE MORON.  
CG: IF YOU'RE REALLY OFF THAT FUCKING SLIME, YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO CONNECT THE DOTS BETTER THAN THAT.  
CG: SERIOUSLY. FUCKING THINK ABOUT THIS, YOU IGNORANT SACK OF SHIT.

You pause again, thinking about how to word your next question before swallowing heavily. From the look of it, Karkat was at the edge of his rationality right now. It was probably best not to antagonize him too much.

TC: I'M NOT SURE I'M FOLLOWING YOU, BRO.  
TC: can you make it a little more motherfuckin clear for me?  
TC: PLEASE? FOR YOUR BEST FRIEND?

Again, there is a pause before he responds.

CG: YOU REALLY ARE THICKER THAN A BATTLESHIP HULL, AREN'T YOU, YOU STUPID FUCKER?  
CG: DON'T BOTHER ANSWERING THAT. I ALREADY KNOW THE FUCKING ANSWER.  
CG: SINCE YOU SEEM TO BE INCAPABLE OF GRASPING WHAT I'M DANGLING RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FUCKING SCENT CATCHER, I'M GOING TO FUCKING SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU.  
CG: THE HEMOSPECTRUM.  
CG: DO YOU FOLLOW IT?

You blink. Of all the things he would be ranting about, this was probably one of the last things you were expecting.

TC: well... no, not really.  
TC: I MEAN, WHAT WOULD BE THE MOTHERFUCKING POINT? ESPECIALLY NOW?  
TC: besides, that made a lot of us motherfuckin miserable before the game started, didn't it?  
TC: WHY THE MOTHERFUCK WOULD I BE IN FAVOR OF SOMETHING LIKE THAT?  
CG: OH, GOOD!  
CG: IT SEEMS THAT EVEN BEHIND YOUR STUPIDITY, THERE'S SOMETHING OF SOME ACTUAL FUCKING WORTH TO BE FOUND HIDING SOMEWHERE IN YOUR THINKPAN.  
CG: I'M HAPPY TO SEE YOU'VE EMBRACED MY "ANCESTOR'S" WISDOM, GAMZEE.

This conversation is just getting more and more confusing every time Karkat responds. You can feel your thinkpan start to hurt slightly, but you press on anyways, your curiosity perked in spite of your nervousness.

TC: your ancestor?  
TC: I THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T BELIEVE IN THAT MOTHERFUCKING SHIT, BEST FRIEND.  
CG: I DON'T.  
CG: I STAND BY WHAT I SAID ABOUT IT BEFORE. IT'S ALL A BUNCH OF FUCKING HOOFBEAST SHIT THAT HIGHBLOODS USE TO INFLATE THEIR ALREADY BLOATED FUCKING PRIDE SO THEY HAVE YET ANOTHER EXCUSE TO PISS ON EVERYONE ELSE.  
TC: then why'd you bring it up?  
CG: I SAID I DIDN'T BELIEVE IN IT.  
CG: I DIDN'T SAY THAT THE STORY DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING VALUABLE TO OFFER.

You chewed at your lip slightly, swallowing a mix of skin, spittle and blood to force down the feeling that kept telling you that you didn't want to know where this was going before you continued.

TC: I'M STILL NOT MOTHERFUCKIN SURE THAT I FOLLOW, BUT OKAY.  
TC: i'm listening, my brother.  
TC: UNLOAD YOUR WISDOM ONTO ME.  
CG: VERY WELL.  
CG: YOU SEE, I CAME TO THIS REALIZATION JUST A FEW MINUTES AGO.  
CG: LITERALLY, NOT EVEN TEN FUCKING MINUTES AGO. I MEAN SERIOUSLY, TALK ABOUT A FUCKING EPIPHANY.  
CG: THIS STARTED WITH ERIDAN.  
TC: eridan?  
TC: WHAT'S HE GOT TO DO WITH THIS?  
CG: SHUT UP AND LET ME TELL THE FUCKING STORY, SHITHEAD.  
CG: CONCERNING SAID DESPERATE, HOPELESS SEADWELLER... HE FINALLY SNAPPED.  
CG: HE JUST FLIPPED HIS SHIT. HE KILLED FEFERI, AND KANAYA, AND NEARLY SUCCEEDED IN KILLING SOLLUX.

You shook your head, taking a moment to reread what had just been sent to you. Upon confirming it, you felt rage begin to boil in your guts once more, your hands shaking as every muscle and tendon in your body tensed, your teeth grating against each other as your lips curled back in a snarl, a low growl beginning to rumble in your throat as purple began to tint your vision.

TC: he what?  
TC: HE DID MOTHERFUCKING WHAT!? Do:  
CG: FUCKER EVEN DESTROYED THE MATRIORB. FUCKING HELL, RIGHT?  
CG: "PRINCE OF HOPE" MY FUCKING WASTE EXPULSION CHUTE.  
CG: IT WOULDN'T SURPRISE ME IF HE INTENDS TO KILL US ALL OFF, EVENTUALLY.  
CG: BUT THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT.  
CG: THE POINT IS THAT AFTER THAT, I TRIED TO REVIVE THEM.  
CG: I REALLY SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO TRY. ALL OUR DREAMSELVES ARE DEAD.  
CG: BUT AFTER THAT... I CAME TO A REALIZATION.  
TC: i'm not in the motherfuckin mood for any hoofbeastshit, bro.  
TC: JUST GET TO THE MOTHERFUCKING POINT.  
TC: what did you learn that's so motherfuckin important?  
CG: IF YOU REALLY WANT TO BELIEVE IN THE HOOFBEASTSHIT THAT THE HIGHBLOODS LOVE TO PREACH ABOUT SO MUCH, WE ALL HAVE AN ANCESTOR.  
CG: EVEN ME.  
CG: I DON'T KNOW ALL THE DETAILS, BUT I HAVE ENOUGH.  
CG: MY ANCESTOR WAS THE SIGNLESS. HIS BLOOD COLOUR WAS DIFFERENT FROM ANY OTHER TROLL IN THE HEMOSPECTRUM.  
CG: ONE MIGHT EVEN SAY HE WASN'T EVEN *ON* THE FUCKING HEMOSPECTRUM.  
CG: IN LIFE, HE AND HIS FOLLOWERS PREACHED ABOUT EQUALITY BETWEEN ALL BLOOD COLOURS. BLOOD WAS BLOOD, NO MATTER WHAT THE COLOUR IS, AND THAT WAS FUCKING THAT.  
CG: BUT THE HIGHBLOODS DIDN'T LIKE HIS IDEAS OR HIS TEACHINGS. SO THEY HUNTED HIM DOWN AND GAVE HIM A PUBLIC EXECUTION USING THE IRONS. A PAIR OF FANCY HANDCUFFS HEATED UP TO THE POINT WHERE THEY GLOWED THE SAME COLOUR AS HIS FREAK BLOOD.  
CG: DURING HIS EXECUTION, HE PUT ALL HIS FRUSTRATION, RAGE AND FURY INTO ONE FINAL SERMON, RIGHT BEFORE HIS DEATH. HE CURSED THE HIGHBLOODS, GAVE AN ORDER TO HIS FOLLOWERS, MOURNED THE LOSSES THAT HIS FRIENDS AND "FAMILY" AS HE CALLED IT WOULD HAVE TO BEAR, AND FORGAVE THE HIGHBLOODS ALL WITHIN HIS FINAL BREATH.  
CG: AFTERWARDS, THE FOLLOWERS IN HIS LITTLE CULT GAVE HIM A NEW NAME, AND A SIGN TO CORRESPOND TO HIM, EVEN THOUGH HER IMPERIOUS CONDESCENSION HERSELF DECREED THAT SO MUCH AS SPEAKING OF THE INCIDENT WAS AN OFFENSE PUNISHABLE BY IMMEDIATE CULLING, NO MATTER WHAT YOUR BLOOD COLOUR WAS.  
CG: THE SUFFERER, THEY CALLED HIM.  
CG: AND THE IRONS THAT WERE USED TO KILL HIM BECAME HIS SYMBOL.  
CG: WHICH, IF YOU BELIEVE THE STORY, EVENTUALLY BECAME MY SYMBOL.  
CG: FUCKING IRONY, HUH?

Your eyes narrowed further, and you were no longer sure what you should be feeling. Rage, sorrow, or, oddly enough, fear.

TC: I'M NOT MOTHERFUCKIN SURE HOW THIS IS CONNECTED TO WHAT'S GOING ON, BRO.  
CG: THE CONNECTION IS THAT ERIDAN'S ACTIONS HELPED ME FUCKING REALIZE SOMETHING.  
CG: IT IS SAID THAT MY SYMBOL WILL ONLY BECOME ITS ORIGINAL COLOUR WHEN THE SUFFERER'S HEIR IS READY TO STAND UP AND LEAD THE NEXT REVOLUTION.  
CG: AND YOU KNOW SOMETHING, GAMZEE?  
CG: I THINK I'M FUCKING READY NOW.  
CG: IT WAS SO FUCKING SIMPLE. I HONESTLY CAN'T BELIEVE I DIDN'T SEE THIS FROM THE BEGINNING.  
CG: ALL THIS TIME, I'VE BEEN HIDING BEHIND GREY, TOO AFRAID AND ASHAMED TO SHOW MY TRUE COLOURS.  
CG: FOR SO LONG, I BELIEVED THE HEMOCASTE SYSTEM WAS RIGHT. THAT I WAS THE LOWEST OF THE LOW. LOWER THAN EVEN THE FUCKING RUSTBLOODS.  
CG: BUT NOW I SEE... NOW I FUCKING SEE THAT WE'RE ALL EQUAL!  
CG: OUR BLOOD COLOUR DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER. IT NEVER HAS!  
CG: EVEN *BEFORE* THE GAME STARTED, THE HEMOCASTE SYSTEM WAS A COMPLETE AND UTTER WASTE OF TIME AND EFFORT!  
TC: i see where you're coming from there, karbro.  
CG: AND I'M HAPPY ABOUT THAT. I REALLY AM, GAMZEE.  
CG: BUT THE OTHERS AREN'T LIKE YOU. THEY HAVEN'T SEEN THE TRUTH.  
CG: THEY'RE STILL FUCKING BLIND.

As Karkat rambled on, you continually felt less angry and more afraid. Where was Karkat going with this?

CG: BUT I'LL SHOW THEM, GAMZEE. OH, I'LL FUCKING SHOW THEM.  
CG: EQUIUS, ERIDAN, VRISKA, NEPETA, TEREZI, TAVROS... I'LL SHOW EVERYONE THAT WE'RE TRULY EQUAL. THAT NO MATTER WHAT OUR BLOOD COLOUR IS, IT ISN'T SOMETHING TO BE ASHAMED OF.  
CG: AFTER ALL, YOUR BLOOD COLOUR DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER WHEN YOU'RE DEAD!

Immediately, your eyes widened with alarm, your hands shooting across the keyboard faster than ever before.

TC: WHOA, KARBRO. THAT'S GOING A BIT MOTHERFUCKIN FAR, ISN'T IT?  
TC: i mean, i see where you're coming from, but you don't need to kill everyone to show them that.  
CG: HOW FUCKING NAIVE, GAMZEE.  
CG: THIS IS THE ONLY WAY THAT TRULY ENSURES THAT EVERYONE WILL UNDERSTAND.  
CG: I'LL RELEASE THEM FROM THEIR SUFFERINGS, AND INTO THE NEXT WORLD.  
CG: OUR BLOOD COLOUR WON'T MATTER ONCE WE CROSS THE BORDER.  
CG: THEY'LL ALL BE FUCKING THANKING ME ONCE I'M DONE.

You could barely believe what you were reading. You began to make one last attempt, tears pooling in your eyes.

TC: KARBRO-  
CG: I'LL WIPE EVERYTHING CLEAN.  
CG: I'LL WRITE OUT MY TEACHINGS IN OUR FUCKING BLOOD AS TESTAMENT TO WHAT I NOW STAND FOR.  
CG: FROM OUR VEINS WILL DRIP MY SCRIPTURES!  
CG: THE TRUE SUFFERER HAS FINALLY ARRIVED.  
CG: SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE, GAMZEE!  
CG: FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH, YOU ARE MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND TOO.  
CG: 69

carcinoGeneticist [CG] has stopped trolling terminallyCapricious [TC]

You panicked, logging in once more and clicking on Karkat's username.

terminallyCapricious [TC] has begun trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TC: karbro?

Panicking, you sat back again, supporting yourself on your hands, your breath erratic.

You have never been so terrified in your life. Your best friend had gone shithive maggots, and there might not be anything you could do to help him, or even stop him.

When no response came, you began typing again.

TC: BEST FRIEND?  
TC: best motherfucking friend, are you there?  
TC: PLEASE, KARBRO. MOTHERFUCKIN ANSWER.

Another minute of waiting still yields no response. Your fingers fly across the keyboard, desperation and fear filling you up like an already overfilled balloon and threatening to burst you, spittle dripping down the side of your chin as you typed.

TC: please, bro, please. i'm begging you.  
TC: DON'T MOTHERFUCKING DO THIS.  
TC: i know what you're going through right now.  
TC: I HAD THE SAME MOTHERFUCKIN PROBLEM JUST NOW.  
TC: i can help you.  
TC: PLEASE, BRO. JUST LET ME HELP YOU.  
TC: honk. :o(

Still, no response came, and it was clear that Karkat might not even be at his husktop or anywhere near a computer anymore.

Your body went stiff briefly before you began to shake, tears of fear, sorrow and rage overflowing from your eyes and mixing with your blood. Abruptly, you stood, bringing your husktop with you, and with a mighty honk, you smashed it into the ground. It abruptly broke, plastic and glass shattering, software sparking briefly before finally dying out, utterly broken beyond repair.

You took a moment to breathe, calming yourself down enough to think rationally before looking toward the barricaded door, sealed shut by you yourself to keep yourself from murdering everyone in your earlier rages.

You had to get out there and warn the others. Get out there and stop Karkat before he did something he wouldn't be able to take back.

But first things first.

As you moved to remove the first part of the barricade - an old metal desk that had taken a beating in your anger - you finally realized what it was about Karkat's writing that had you so on edge, aside from how crazy he'd seemed to have gone.

He had been typing in bright red.


End file.
